She stood by the front window as she liked to do, where she could see the sidewalk and the street. There was only one man in the shop, not a regular, though familiar somehow. He casually sauntered around, picking up knick-knacks, smiling appreciatively. Then he was standing next to her, so suddenly she hadn’t noticed.

He spoke, “Look at them all. Going about their day: shopping, eating, talking. Arguing, making up. Stopping off for a drink at the pub, meeting for trysts at the hotel. Human beings.” He turned and said much more quietly, in her ear, “Not like us.”

He sat at the campfire, surrounded by the tribe, watching without seeming to watch. He was yitch: outsider, but not enemy. This was a comfort, as originally they had leaned towards thinking of him as kuho: food animal. He had the distinct impression that, had they not just completed a feast consisting of one of the elephant-like creatures that live in the marshes, they would have continued classifying him as kuho.

If he could be taken as yon — one of the people — he would be safe, at least until a rescue ship came. Which could be a very long time.

She curled up next to him, wrapped in a blanket because there was no room in the sleeping bag. He would have traded with her, but he was sound asleep and she didn’t want to wake him. How he could sleep was beyond her, after the day they had had. After the week they had had.

She had never even heard of this town — or the middle school whose roof they now occupied — before a week ago. The zombies had driven them here. Tomorrow would be another day of desperately fleeing.

I came to Boroku destitute, a transportee whose only alternative had been debtor’s prison. Fortunately, most come to Boruku — and worlds like it — in much the same condition. Now I own my own farm and a shop in town.

There’s law out here, but it’s civil law, not corporate: the corporations are banned from the colonies. They can’t own property or do business or pay payroll. Oh, they have agents here and there, but if they get caught doing business, they’re pig food. Mostly they just wait around for Reform to be repealed. Like that’ll ever happen; it’d be war.